Other Worlds
by Rapunzel24
Summary: Nine demigods. One twisted Alternate Universe. Nine realizations. One adventure. The Seven (with Nico and others) live in a terrifying alternate reality, where children of Zeus rule. Children of Posiedon are but slaves to the others, and children of Hades are locked up. Each of the protagonists has his fate woven into the others'- each one realizes the injustice of the world.
1. Chapter 1: Annabeth

ANNABETH was starting to get very annoyed.

She'd been waiting outside her housing complex (that some could call a villa) for thirteen minutes already, and Malcom wasn't even in sight. She should've known this would happen. Malcom, her half-brother, was known for his tendency to lose track of the time. He was late to almost everything, which was odd, because Annabeth was the opposite. She was on time for almost everything. In the cases when she wasn't on time, she was early.

Finally Annabeth saw Malcom hurrying down the street, carrying what for all the world seemed like seven fully-written college papers in his hands. She rolled her eyes and walked down the white limestone staircase, descending onto the pavement.

"Late _again_." She said, emphasizing the last word and glaring at him.

"Sorry, Annabeth. I got caught up."

Most people Annabeth knew would be stammering and quivering because of her glowers by now. But Malcom didn't even blink in her direction. That was one of the reasons she liked being with him.

The two sixteen-year-olds walked down the street, matching their strides. They were both silent. Annabeth moved her bag to the other shoulder; her right arm felt like it was falling off.

"It was an Archimedes Calculation." Malcom said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Annabeth stared at him, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Really."

A long time ago, when the half-siblings were only six, the two of them had read about Archimedes. Annabeth and remarked that finding all sorts of calculations like Archimedes had done must be very time consuming (though she didn't use that saying). Then Malcom had offered to use the words "Archimedes Calculation" to describe a genius, new discovery that might cause troubles with one of their schedules. Basically, if one of the two had an Archimedes Calculation, their mistakes and\or odd timings were forgiven. They hadn't had one for almost a year now.

"WOW! Malcom, that's… incredible!" Annabeth smiled, her grey eyes flashing.

"I know! It's a mathematical problem- see, if you put the X here and the Y here and then you multiply by M and square the double…" Malcom opened one of his "college papers" to prove his point. Annabeth realized he'd written page after page about his calculation, and then stapled it all together.

"Malcom, this is impressive. But if we don't run now, we're gonna be late." Annabeth said, shifting her bag again.

Malcom stuffed his papers in his own backpack. "Right, then." He said. "Let's go."

The two made a mad dash for the elitist, Athena-only academy that was their school, passing the gates just as the bell rang and they slammed shut.

Annabeth's first class was Calculus. She dropped her bag in Homeroom, grabbed her notebook and study files, and dashed into the classroom. The teacher luckily had her back to the door, so Annabeth made it to her seat without being spotted.

"Please copy the following to your notebooks." The teacher said, and promptly started to recite a long list of Calculus rules and equations. Annabeth scribbled studiously in her notebook. She knew King Zeus strived for Athena children to be the best, and she knew he doted on their immortal mother. That was why Athena descendants lived in large houses with marble décor and big gardens, and studied in schools with the best teachers and the highest standards and quality. Even so, Annabeth felt that Zeus didn't care much about REAL education. He just wanted Athena children to remember all their studies. He just wanted robots to build his castles.

When Annabeth went to the marble washrooms to use the toilet during recess, a floating scroll appeared in her face. Anybody else would freak out, but Annabeth knew this was sort of her mother's way of sending messages to her kids. She grabbed the scroll and unfurled it.

 _Dear Annabeth,_ read the text. _Your seventeenth birthday is approaching, and your father and I have been searching for a present. Just today King Zeus himself recommended a gift to you, and fairly insisted you receive it. You will find your seventeenth birthday present waiting for you when you arrive at home._

 _Have a good, intelligent day,_

 _Athena_


	2. Chapter 2: Percy

PERCY's brain hurt.

Honestly. He hadn't drank any water for two days. He hadn't eaten a thing for- how long had it been? Three days? Four? Besides that, he was dressed in rags, covered in dirt, and smelled like the garbage dump where he used to search for food. But seriously, Percy didn't have any energy to spare thinking about his headache now. He had to find some food in the corners of the crumbling hut he lived in, along with many other Poseidon children of Zeuopolis. The food wasn't for himself, of course. It was for his half-brother, Tyson.

"Percy?" Tyson said, his voice childish. He was a cyclops, large and oafish. The others didn't like him much; they found him loud and annoying. "Did you find food?"

Percy sighed miserably. "Not yet, Tyson. Maybe soon I'll find some."

Just as Percy crouched down low to check the cracks in the floorboards, he heard the shack door swing open.

"Get up, scum." Dylan, a burly man with a thick mustache and an unhealthy obsession with whips, barged in. Dylan was a servant of Zeus, and was in charge of Poseidon Slaves Holding Hut #8. He enjoyed dressing his best to annoy the imprisoned demigods, and often chewed pizza when he came. Fortunately, today he didn't.

"I SAID GET UP!" Dylan snapped, yanking a whip out of his belt and cracking it in the air. Percy's half-siblings got up off the floor. Percy did too, not wanting a lashing.

He glanced around him. Percy didn't often look over his cage shack, but when he did it simply depressed him. The room was small and incurably filthy, stinking with the stench of sweat. Eighteen others apart from him and Tyson crammed together, thin and dressed in rags. The youngest was an eleven-year-old girl with empty eyes, the oldest twenty-three. Percy, seventeen, was stuck in the middle. In other words, the bottom of the feeding loop.

"You!" Dylan said, and Percy jumped. Dylan's fat finger was pointed at his skinny chest.

"Me?" Percy quickly wondered what he could have done to earn Dylan's full attention.

"No, not you! The one next to you! Big guy! Get over here, now!"

Percy felt cold. Dylan meant Tyson.

"No." Percy said without thinking. "No, he can't go."

Dylan narrowed his eyes. "There's a guy out here who needs a good, strong slave. Now, one more word and I'll introduce my whip to your back."

Tyson looked at Percy. "I must go?"

"No!" Percy was crying now. He truly loved Tyson. The big guy couldn't be alone, he'd be sad. And Percy would miss him crazily.

Dylan snapped. "All right, both of ya up here!"

Tyson pulled Percy along. Dylan whistled, and a man came from outside with celestial bronze handcuffs.

"He's yours's, sir." Dylan said. The man snapped the cuffs over Tyson's hand, handed a wad of money to Dylan, and marched Tyson away.

Percy was in shock as Dylan pulled a whip out of his belt, so he didn't even realize what was happening until it was brought down. Pain flared along his back, and he yelled aloud.

Before Dylan could inflict more pain, a knock came on the door. He paused, dropped the whip, and went outside to talk with the newcomer.

Percy pressed a hand to his back. He was bleeding, but not severely. His half-siblings watched in silence, their eyes full of sympathy.

Dylan came back in, rubbing his palms together. "I have good news, filth." He told Percy. "You're being sold. Orders from the boss himself."

"Who, Zeus?" Percy asked, disbelieving.

Dylan slapped him suddenly. "Never speak his name without his title!" he screamed, spit flying from his mouth.

Percy remained silent.

A man in a suit came in and snapped handcuffs on Percy's wrists. Without any payment or any words, he nodded to Dylan and yanked Percy out of the house, to step on real earth for the first time in ten years.


	3. Chapter 3: Piper

PIPER hated the crowds.

They were just groups of insolent, idiotic, pampered-no-good-lazy Upper Zeuopolis brats. If only she were allowed to, Piper would probably spout insults at them all day. When they came to the shop and sneered at the clothes that had took Piper many sleepless nights to complete. When they made fun of her father, who would put on shows for them and sing until his voice cracked and he went hoarse for days. When they _DARED_ to throw tomatoes and such at him.

Once, when Piper was fourteen, she'd punched a snobby elite Athena gentleman for throwing a rotten cabbage. The man had whapped her around the head with his umbrella until his wife suppressed him.

In general, Piper hated all residents of Zeuopolis, which leaded to her deep hatred of crowds. Unfortunately, there was a huge one around their house today.

"PIPES!" Piper's dad bellowed from downstairs. "I NEED YOU DOWN HERE!"

Piper pretended not to hear him. She lay on her creaking bed and sighed, staring at the ceiling. The peach-colored paint had already started peeling drastically, despite it having been spread up there only three weeks previously. Piper blamed it on the strong weather that frequently wracked Lower Zeuopolis.

Other than the color on the ceiling, Piper's room was barren and faded. A cracked dresser, a falling-apart closet, her own bed. There wasn't much to see.

Oh, apart from the window.

That was where Piper headed now. She heaved herself off the bed and leaned onto the windowsill, cut right into the grey stone wall. There were no curtains and no glass to protect Piper from falling to her death, which had been a serious problem when she was little and could still fit through the window.

Piper peered out onto the narrow streets. Zeuopolis was like a quilt, built of many different styles. Lower Zeuopolis was formed of thin roads, packed with people and any sort of store or stand. Though it was a dump, Piper's neighborhood was colorful and attracted many tourists and rich folks.

Piper and her dad's house was carved out of grey stone. It was the kind of place that should have been viewed as very special, but most people thought it was a horrible choice of housing. Piper kind of agreed; the stone was freezing cold in the winter, and her window couldn't support glass or hinges. It couldn't ever close. Even so, Piper's dad adored the old place.

"Nobody has a house quite like ours!" he'd say, his voice full of pride.

Piper's favorite spot was her window. It was so high up, she could see as far as the neat-kept Athena Area- and even the Great Castle itself, where King Zeus and bratty Prince Jason dwelled. Piper detested them both.

Piper now looked straight down. A crowd (the kind she hated) had formed around the entrance to her shop. There must be something crazy going on.

"PIPER MCLEAN, I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER CALLING YOU DOWN HERE FIVE MINUTES AGO!"

Piper sighed, but admitted to herself that a group like this could make serious money.

"COMING!" she yelled back to her father, and stalked out of her room.

She skidded down the dark hallway in her threadbare socks and rushed down the old stairs, taking care not to put on too pressure lest they break. She emerged behind the counter and immediately regretted not changing out of her tatty clothes.

The shop was filled with customers, all dressed in finery. Nobody gave her any attention as they browsed the dresses and accessories. Piper ducked behind the table, glad of the summer she'd boarded up the sides. Now she was invisible to the shoppers' eyes.

"Piper?" her dad stepped out of the storage room, a crate of hats in his arms. He was devilishly handsome, and Piper hated that. Girls at school swooned over him, which was really awkward. The women who shopped at the store always seemed interested in a romantic relationship with him, even though he was her DAD. And Piper looked like a girl from a different planet compared to him. They shared the same skin color (they were Cherokee Indians), but that was all.

"I'm here." Piper whispered, raising her hand ever so slightly.

Her father laughed quietly. "Pull that dress over you, Pipes, and come on out. The show is starting."

He gestured towards a Tiffany Blue dress that lay draped across a chair beside Piper. Groaning, she slipped it on.

Piper was tying the sash when she registered her father's words.

"DAD!" Piper said, scrambling after him into the storage room.

"What?"

"You're putting on a _show?!_ "

Piper's dad sighed sadly and leaned against the other crates. He gazed at his daughter, his eyes full of regret, caressing her cheek.

"Pipes, you know I do these things for you. I want you to have a better life than I could ever have."

Piper swatted his hand away, fury burning in her chest.

"No, dad. STOP THIS. I don't CARE if it's for my future! You don't know what it's like to be down there and see them laugh, or… or throw thing, or hear half the things they say…" Her eyes were stinging with angry tears now, but she pushed them back. "You can't keep doing these things. It's AWFUL. MY FUTURE IS LOST ANYWAY, DAD! THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T!"

"Piper-"

"NO!"

The tears flew freely now, and Piper stormed out into the shop. She didn't care if the customers saw her cry. She didn't care about anything.

In fact, she didn't care so much that she didn't CARE where she was going and knocked right into a man.

"Well!" he said, latching his cold fingers onto Piper's shoulders. She struggled against the sudden attack, but couldn't wriggle away from him.

"What have we here?"


	4. Chapter 4: Leo

LEO needed nails.

The roof was cracked and damaged, a healthy chunk of rusty metal completely ripped away (Leo suspected drakons). He may be the best mechanic\builder in all of Zeuopolis, but even Leo couldn't fix this kind of harm without proper tools. Unfortunately, the garage he shared with his half-siblings lacked pretty much everything but fat, long, screws. The kind that needed a proper drill (which, of course, they also didn't have) in order to be used.

Leo sighed. He gazed down from his perch on the twisted metal railing that spiraled from the ceiling and scanned the dusty, littered ground for any sign of his siblings. Though the rail wasn't higher than five meters off the ground, Leo felt he was miles above everyone. He actually kind of liked it.

Nobody. Leo groaned. He felt hot even from just looking down at the stuffy workshop. Sweating already, he tilted his face and let a breeze of (relatively) cool air from the gaping hole in the roof roll all over him.

"HARELY!" Leo finally yelled, bored of waiting. "WHERE IN THE NAME OF ZEUS ARE YOU?!"

He waited for a second, and then: "I NEED NAILS! UNLESS YOU WANT TO FREEZE TO DEATH THIS WINTER, GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE AND HAVE A BOX OF INCHES WITH YOU!"

That got him a response.

"CALM DOWN! I'M JUST GETTING US SOME ORANGES! YOU KNOW HOW CRAZY NYSSA GOES FOR VITAMINS IN OUR DIETS! I'LL GET YOU YOUR STINKING NAILS!" his half-brother Harley screamed back, annoyed.

Despite the sarcasm in the second-to-last sentence, Leo licked his lips. Oranges were a rare delicacy for simple mechanists like Leo and his siblings, but if you paid ahead for long enough and were regular visitors at the shop, Tendo the shopkeeper would give you some for cheaper. That was why Nyssa (his half-sister) always made a point of buying squishy tomatoes from Tendo's, even though he had softer fruits and not a large choice of vegetables.

Leo was not a patient person. Barely five minutes after Harley had responded to his shouts, he was bellowing again.

"HARLEYYYY! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"I'M FREAKING TALKING TO JUDSON! I'LL BE THERE IN TEN!"

Leo groaned again. Ten minutes was FAR too long.

He waited two seconds, then started shimmying down the filthy pole he was sitting on. The thing was carved full of ridges, and they wore red grooves into Leo's palm as he scooted along with his hands,

Soon enough Leo's feet were no longer propped on a pile of broken crates, and he was dangling in midair over a large pile of machinery. If Nyssa had been there, she would have already screamed at Leo to get the Hades off of the railing. She wasn't, though, which meant that by the time Leo realized how stupid his idea was, it was too late.

He tried to make the most of it. "HARLEY, I AM ABOUT TO FALL."

"YEAH RIGHT."

Leo wriggled a bit, trying to get a firmer grip on the rail. Instead, the grease and sweat on his palms caused one hand to slide right off it.

"HARLEY." Leo said, nervous. "I AM NOT KIDDING. I CLIMBED ON THE POLE. NOW I'M GONNA DIE."

"GOOD LUCK WITH THAT!"

" **HARLEY! GET OVER HERE AND BRING THE NET BEFORE THIS FLOOR GETS A LEO CARPET!"**

Harley didn't answer. Leo hoped that meant he was coming, because his other hand was very damp and starting to slip.

"HAR-" Leo started up again, only to be interrupted by a loud crash from outside. He twisted, tightened his grip, and turned towards the entrance.

Harley stood at the door. He was a strong, dark, muscled little eight-year-old who was eyeing Leo with worry, two awkwardly woven bags in his hands.

"What the Hades were you thinking?!" he yelled with fear, dropping the bags and rushing towards Leo.

Promptly at that moment, Leo lost his grip and tumbled off the bar. He landed in an enormous pile of rusty bolts and discarded machinery, crashing into metal.

"OW." Leo groaned, crawling out of the ocean of scattered bits and pieces. "I am never doing that again."

Harley rushed to his half-brother and helped him stand. That having been done, he punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

"You crazy nut!" Harley screamed. "You scared me so much!"

"OUCH, Harley!" Leo rubbed his shoulder, now also painful. "I'm sorry."

Harley grunted (kind of cutely) and began collecting the things that had dropped from the bags.

Leo winced, but leaned over to help him. There was a loaf of dark bread, a chunk of cheese, some wax paper instead of plates…

"No oranges." Leo noted.

Harley nodded, seeming upset. "Tendo said sorry, but there were customers who paid much more than us. He saved for them."

Leo stiffened. "Hey, that's not fair! We paid in advance! Nyssa saved for months- did he at least give back the money?"

Harley tugged a leather pouch out of his pocket and emptied seven silver coins onto the dirty concrete floor.

"We paid much more than that!" Leo cried. "That crook!"

Deep down inside, though, Leo had been suspecting this would happen. In the Machinery District, and in all of Zeuopolis in fact, it was the richer and stronger and _more well-known_ people who got the better deals. That was why he and his siblings were stuck in this patched-up, creaky old garage- nobody knew them. Nobody felt their potential. But Leo planned on making them known, because they were the best mechanics in the District. That was obvious.

Light flooded the broiling-hot garage, and Leo spun towards the entrance. A figure, blocked from his recognition by the sun in his eyes, had knocked down a sheet of metal that served as a guard from the sunlight.

"Oops, sorry." As soon as the sheet was lifted up again, Leo saw it was Nyssa; the light illuminated her strong arms and Spanish complexion. She could have passed for Leo's actual sister (if only he hadn't been so scrawny).

Nyssa tightened the red bandanna that held her hair back and clumped over to Leo and Harley.

"I got this." She told them, smiling slightly. " _I found it, Leo._ "

She was holding up a chunk of metal, twisted with wires. Harley looked puzzled, but Leo gasped out loud.

"Aw, yes! YES!" he grabbed the part out of Nyssa's hand and scrambled up the creaking ladder that leaned on the concrete wall. The rungs led him up to a pile of crates, where he kept his hard-worked-on inventions hidden from the others' sight.

Leo delicately fitted the piece into one of the inventions and tinkered with the controls a bit. The contraption shuddered a bit- and then soared into the air on mechanical wings!

"YEAH!" Leo bellowed, punching the air. The pile of crates wavered, so he skidded down the ladder and landed in front of Nyssa.

"Wow." She said, impressed. "You can take it to Zeus now."

Leo stopped short. "ZEUS?!"

Nyssa grinned. "I didn't tell you? I sold it to God's Court. They'll be seeing you at four o'clock."

Leo felt like floating. "I gotta leave now, then."

"Yeah. Well, good luck!"

Leo called down his invention and dashed out of the garage. Not a moment was to be wasted if he wanted to get there on time.

And he wanted to. Because this would be their lucky break.


	5. Chapter 5: Jason

JASON wanted to throw a hissy fit.

His day had been _awful_. Fifteen girls had come already from seven o'clock in the morning, all to beg for his hand in marriage. The servants and guards had batted them away as if they were flies. Jason had long ago lost interest in trying to be kind to these crazy suitors, but the guards had been harsh. When he tried to help a girl up by offering her his hand, she swooned and fainted! Her hand had dragged along Jason's wrist, scratching him with her sharp nail and drawing blood.

After that, his hand still throbbing, Jason had to practice his fencing skills. Then there was Power Practice (summoning weather and lightning and whatnot), Kingliness (as the only current heir to the throne, Jason would one day be king), and to finish off, six hours of Lessons. History of the Kingdom, for example, and Maths and the Greek Stories, and the Roman Stories and Arts and Philosophy. Jason despised learning these things; perhaps Greek Stories he hated the most. That was because often his father came along and told him of Greece's grandeur. How wonderful she was, how much better than Rome.

How Thalia was Greek.

Jason knew that when a person died or disappeared, often family and friends exaggerated their good qualities and forgot the old. He knew this hands-on; his father, for example, always spoke of his amazing mother. Thalia had told him, as a fact, that before she'd died Zeus had done nothing but rant about her. Jason himself did not remember a thing.

But Jason remembered also the bad things about Thalia. How she sometimes yelled or brooded. How she screamed at servants. How she despised their mother. How she sometimes shut Jason out for days on end. Somehow, though, Jason didn't care. He wanted Thalia back.

It had been a stormy night, five years earlier. Jason, eleven years old, had been reading in his room. While skimming through his reading materiel (an old history book), Jason had come across a curious find- A sentence in his book read: _Thousands of years ago, Old Zeuopolis crumbled in on itself, and New Zeuopolis sprang around it, born from the ruins._

This sentence had confused Jason so deeply that he'd decided to ask Thalia about it. He could still remember, now, the sound his socks made as he padded along the hall; the spatter of rain against enormous windowpanes; the snores of a thousand servants echoing in the huge palace.

"Thal?" Jason had said, pushing open her door. He expected the room to be illuminated, Thalia reading in bed, but the chamber was shrouded in darkness.

"THAL?!" Jason stepped forward and stumbled, crashing to the floor. Something moved around in front of him, and then…

…Lightning flashed, throwing a line of glowing white into Jason's vision, showing him what had stirred.

Thalia had been perched on the windowsill. The window was hastily shut behind her, a patch of dampness on the carpet beneath her dangling feet, water dripping from the place she sat.

Jason gasped.

"Jason! What is it?" He remembered Thalia's urgent voice.

"Thal! I- what-"

"What IS IT, Jason?!"

He clambered over to her and pointed at the confusing sentence.

"This doesn't make any sense, Thal. Master Windson taught me: ' _Our own Zeuopolis shines so bright, stood millennium in Zeus's light.'_ This book is wrong! There was never and Old or New Zeuopolis. Right? Right?"

Jason could remember the face Thalia had made when he'd finished talking: So pained and worried, considering something, terrified… he remembered wondering what could make a fearless girl of eighteen so scared.

"Jason." Thalia had grabbed his shoulders. "Listen to me very carefully. You may never, EVER, repeat what I'm going to tell you now."

"Is this about the book?" Jason had asked, nervous.

"This is about EVERYTHING, Jason."

He'd squirmed from her grip. "You're freaking me out, Thal."

She'd sighed. "Fine. Listen to me: that book is right. There was an Old Zeuopolis. There's a reason for all of this- the segregation, the anger. The unfairness. There was a city, and it's close. Close, so Zeus can watch over it. To make sure no one will find it. But he's slacking, and I'll find it. There's something behind all this. I'll find it and when I do I'll get you."

Jason stood in silence.

"You didn't call him Father. You called him Zeus." He finally said.

"He's no father of mine." Thalia answered grimly. "Stay safe, brother. I love you."

And with that, she'd jumped out the window.

That was where Jason's memory ended. But he'd never had any reason to believe what Thalia had said- or any reason NOT to.

So he just did.

Now he was walking in the Royal Gardens. The plants were all clever fakes, created to act like real ones. They even wilted with no water. Nobody in Zeuopolis had real flowers; Persephone, furious with the treatment of her husband and herself (neither were respected), refused to allow any flower or pretty plant to poke through Zeuopolis' soil. Jason didn't mind; the gardens were still a good place to think. And they had wheat rom Demeter. Jason liked to chew it.

"Prince Jason!"

Jason swerved and looked over at the Garden Gate. A footman stood there, slightly out of breath.

"Prince Jason, you are wanted with your father's court."

Jason nodded regally. "All right, I'll go immediately."

He bid the fake flowers a silent goodbye and sprinted into the palace's depths.

The throne room (AKA Zeus's court) was a gargantuan hall, complete with an arched ceiling and a diagram of the galaxies. Jason had loved finding the constellations when he was younger: Hercules, the Big Dipper, Ursa Major… now, though, he was occupied with the people in the room.

First, there were twenty servants; only two one-hundredths of the servants in the entire palace (Jason had done the math when he was ten). Along with them, there were Zeus' advisors, all children of Athena; the Muses; and of course, Zeus himself.

The King wore a robe of sky-blue today. That meant he was in a good mood. He stretched up, ten or so meters tall, sitting in his gold throne. His beard, stark white on this occasion, seemed to look like the clouds Jason often saw in the sky.

"Son!" Zeus boomed.

"My father." Jason bowed gracefully and deeply. "May I know why you have called me here today?"

Zeus laughed heartily for no particular reason. "My son, you have no knowledge of the beauty hunters."

This was not a question, it was a statement; nevertheless, it was true.

"These are people who searched through all of Zeuopolis for a bride fitting for you." Zeus kept talking.

Jason started getting a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Finally, they have found the perfect girl!"

A tall, thin man who Jason hadn't noticed stepped out from behind the throne. He dragged with him a girl about Jason's age, who was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

Her eyes seemed to be multicolored, her hair the color of caramel (and soft and feathery). She gazed at him with what seemed like the greatest hate in the world- very different from the women who threw themselves at him.

Horror built up in Jason's throat.

"Meet your new bride-to-be, Prince Jason." The man spoke in a slippery voice. "Piper McLean."


	6. Chapter 6: Nico

NICO didn't want to die today.

To tell the truth, he didn't really want to die any other day, either. Hades may be his father, but that didn't cause him to deny the bitter truth: Nico was not a hero. He'd be lucky to go to Asphodel after death, if not the Fields of Punishment. Hazel always told him to stop talking like that. She insisted Nico was a good person. But after last week's incident with the guards, Nico wasn't going to lie to himself anymore: causing skeletons to burst from the ground and claw Zeus's soldiers to the Underworld in terrible agony was not the kind of thing a hero would do.

All this flashed through Nico's head as he and Hazel crouched behind some toppled stone blocks in the Athena Quarter of Zeuopolis. They'd managed to get cornered by a guard who'd glimpsed them stealing food from a windowsill; luckily, he'd thought they were just some poor rascals from Hephaestus or something. That hadn't stopped him from chasing them down, though, and now they hid.

The man seemed wary of climbing into the area where Hazel and Nico hid. He probably didn't think they were there.

"Why isn't he coming?" Hazel whispered as quietly as she could, so low even Nico almost didn't hear her. She clutched her right elbow with her right hand as she spoke; it had gotten a serious scrape on it when she'd fallen from the tree they'd hid in only minutes ago. Blood dribbled through her fingers and onto the earth, but Hazel didn't seem to notice.

"I don't know. Just be thankful he isn't," Nico replied. Even so, he couldn't help wondering the same thing.

Eventually the guard decided to check their area anyway. He climbed over the low metal fence surrounding the chunks of stone and started walking in their direction, carefully and slowly.

It hit Nico like a sledgehammer.

"HAZEL!" He whispered. "These are ARCHIEOLOGICAL RUINS."

Hazel got what he was thinking immediately.

"Nico, we can't destroy history!" she replied, seeming angry.

"Would you rather be caught?!"

Nico could practically SEE what Hazel was thinking: the two of them being captured, tortured for information about their half siblings, and then executed painfully.

"Fine." She finally said.

Nico nodded at her, then sprinted out of their hiding place and leapt up onto the stones.

"Hey!" the guard spun towards him, pointing a gun.

"I wouldn't do that." Nico told him, perched on the ruins. "If that thing gets in my direction, this goes down."

He pressed his hands on the cool, grooved rock.

The man gasped in a sharp inhale of breath. Nico could tell he was weighing the importance of both rules: catch Hades kids or protect ruins?

Apparently, Zeus hated Hades children more than he respected the ruins. Nico saw the man prepare to jump at him.

"RUN!" He yelled, and rolled off the rock. Nico hit the ground running, a sharp pain on his ankle from a previous bad fall.

He dashed away from the ruins, perhaps a five meter distance. Then there was a tiny, rocky, manmade hill of regular stones. Over that- a gate leading out of the Archeological Park.

"Hazel, come on!" Nico shouted, his feet pounding the dust.

No reply.

Nico spun quickly, ready to dodge the guard and drag along his half-sister. But when he turned the guard made no movement towards him. Instead, he held the gun to Hazel's head.

 _Nico was ten years old. Bianca, twelve, held him back as they stood in a shadowed alley._

 _"Stay in the boxes, Nico." She instructed. "Remember, you are-"_

 _"-A worthless Hephaestus legacy. No powers. Homeless. I know, Bianca." He finished her sentence crankily._

 _"Nico, this is serious! I have to do this!"_

 _"I don't SEE why you gotta go."_

 _She sighed. "Percy's a runaway too. He can get us to Artemis and her Huntresses. When we do, they'll get you quick as a wink. But you're too young for this journey. I trust you, Nico. Please be careful."_

 _Nico glared at her, but then his gaze softened. "Fine, Bi. I'll be veeeeery careful."_

 _"Good bro!" She hugged him. Then he lay down to sleep on his tattered coat as she stayed awake keeping watch, the moonlight illuminating her face._

 _When he woke up, she'd gone. All that was left was a note that reminded Nico she loved him and to, of course, be careful._

 _So he was. And he waited for a while._

 _One day a guy came to him. He was about fourteen, with sea-green eyes and black hair._

 _"Are you Nico Di Angelo?" he said urgently. "I-I'm Percy Jackson."_

 _Nico nodded, dumbfounded._

 _"Listen, Nico. Your sister… is dead. I'm so, so sorry. I couldn't do anything."_

 _Nico's world was peeling away. Crashing down around him. His heart seemed to grow as large as the earth itself, pounding so hard Nico was exploding-_

 _"NICO!" Percy was still there._

 _Nico gazed at him with hatred. "Leave me alone. Go away. I HATE YOU."_

 _Percy looked anxious. "Nico, I'm really sorry. But they're coming for us. You have to-"_

 _Footsteps echoed in the streets. Two men appeared almost instantly, grabbing Percy by his arms. Nico shrunk into the shadows, hiding._

 _"RUN, NICO!" Percy bellowed, looking in the other direction in order to lead his captors away from Nico._

 _Nico turned and ran._

All this came pounding down on him as he stopped short. He couldn't lose another sister. Never again.

Hazel stared at him, terrified. Her elbow was bleeding again, the cut reopened. She had a few fresh scratches on her face and a bruise on her shoulder where the fabric of her shirt had ripped away, but worst of all was the long cut along her neck. It was oozing blood profusely, and Hazel seemed slightly weak on her feet.

"HALT!" the guard shouted, despite the fact that Nico wasn't moving any closer. "Try to get near and I'll shoot her."

The barrel of the gun dug against Hazel's left temple. She didn't struggle, which Nico thought was wise; there were more chances for her to escape if she didn't get herself shot in the head.

"Come with me." The guard said, smirking. "I think you'll get a nice penalty for stealing."

Nico's heart skipped a beat. The guard still didn't recognize that Nico and Hazel were Hades children. He wasn't going to kill them.

"We didn't steal anything!" Nico wailed, trying to act like someone who wasn't actually supposed to be murdered at young age.

The guard twisted Hazel's scraped arm behind her back so that she cried out in pain. Nico, thinking she'd been shot, screamed: "HAZEL!"

It wasn't supposed to go like this- guards weren't allowed to hurt non-Hades children (which Hazel and Nico were, but he didn't know that).

"Go, Nico!" Hazel winced.

The guard stiffened.

"Nico? Hazel?" he muttered.

Nico froze. They'd made a horrible mistake. They'd mentioned their own names.

"Hades children." The guard sneered.

He lowered the gun and shot Hazel's foot.

Nico howled in fury; skeletons erupted from the ground; Hazel wailed in agony; the grass exploded; the guard dropped his weapon; screams echoed in the empty park-

And Nico was skidding down a cobblestone street. The stones were slick with age, but shiny and clean. He was alone and weak, bleeding from his head and his arms and legs. His feet slapped the stones awkwardly, his head spinning.

Hands connected with Nico's back and his head smacked the ground. The world spun. He was staring up and Hazel was nowhere in sight and blonde hair and-

Darkness.


	7. Chapter 7: Hazel

HAZEL couldn't breathe.

It was like an enormous pressure had settled on her lungs, making it impossible to inhale. She gasped, her head spinning. Was she dying? She wanted it to be over quickly.

All of a sudden, the world cleared. She was lying on a mattress with a flat pillow beneath her head. Sunlight streamed through a small window were one wall met the ceiling.

Hazel quickly sat up, and pain flared across her body. She winced and looked over her wounds; the cut on her neck, her scraped elbow, her bruised shoulder, even the shot foot. All bandaged. The latter, being the most serious of her injuries, seemed to be ensconced in a thick white cast.

Hazel hobbled out of bed, ignoring the sharp pain. She was locked in this room- she had to get out.

As soon as Hazel reached for the door, a majestic voice boomed through the room

" _Hazel Levesque."_

Hazel stiffened with surprise, glancing around her. She was alone in the empty room, and there was no communication device in sight; in fact, there was nothing at all but the bed she'd been laying on.

"Who is this?" She inquired nervously, eyes still scanning every inch of her prison.

" _I have heard about you."_

"Not much, I hope." Hazel replied. "I try to stay below the radar."

" _I have my ways."_ Was the answer. " _I have servants everywhere- in the gardens, in the forests, in the meadows…"_

Hazel blinked. There was something about the places mentioned, something connecting them…

"Demeter." She finally said. "You're Demeter."

The voice chuckled, not unkindly. " _Bright girl."_

Hazel sighed. "Do you have my brother Nico? Can I see him?"

The voice hesitated.

" _I do not have the Greek child."_ Demeter admitted. " _Nor do I wish I had him. Hades is not someone whose family I wish to come in contact with."_

Hazel felt dizzy.

"GREEK child?!" she asked, "That doesn't make any sense. All the gods are Greek. And my father is Hades, too."

 _"On the contrary, dear Hazel."_ Demeter sounded mysterious. " _Your father is PLUTO."_

And with that, the voice cut away. All that was left was the odd ringing in Hazel's ears.

Hazel asked to leave when Demeter's voice started talking again the following day. The goddess flatly declined all of Hazel's requests. Eventually Hazel started screaming and kicking the door, which resulted in the reopening of all her wounds. She got knocked out by Demeter's power and, after waking up seven hours later, was succumbed to her bed for a week. Every inch of her throbbed or stung or ached.

Hazel was lay in bed all day, getting her injuries bandaged again and again by one of Demeter's grain spirit servants. She was a little bit woozy, but Demeter insisted she get out of bed again. Insisted Hazel be a healthy little prisoner.

Soon enough the spirits started making Hazel's bed vanish as soon as they treated her with medicines. Hazel grumbled a bit in the beginning, but after a while began to accept her boring fate.

She started jogging. Laps around and around the cramped room. Hazel was a fast runner, but could only make four or so laps before her bullet wound began to bleed again. That annoyed Demeter's servants, and they made her stay in one spot the whole day. So Hazel stretched and did push-ups; anything to strengthen herself up. She knew she was being watched all. To tell the truth, she was biding her time until she found a tracking device.

Now she was doing fifty pull-ups again.

Hazel stopped, barely panting, and surveyed the room again. It had been two or three weeks since her capture, and Demeter still hadn't made the reason for it clear. Hazel was starting to get exasperated.

 _"Good afternoon, Hazel."_ Demeter's disembodied voice floated through the room again. Unlike the first time it had happened, Hazel didn't even flinch.

"Hi, Demeter." She said in a bored tone, but turned towards the door. "I'm asking once more: please tell me why I'm here."

She expected refusal; to her surprise, Demeter sighed.

" _Very well. It is quite simple. I just… couldn't leave you there. You would have died for sure. As much as I hate your father (his Greek form, naturally), I do have a moral of helping the helpless."_

Hazel frowned. "I wasn't helpless."

The air seemed to snort. Without a word, something like a television flashed on into Hazel's brain.

 _The guard lowered the gun and shot Hazel's foot. She screamed in agony and reached down to cover the gaping wound, but the guard yanked her up by her hair and smashed his gun over her head. Hazel collapsed, seemingly lifeless. The guard noticed Nico and yelped; skeletons were rising from the ground. The bones clawed at the guard, ripping his skin. He wailed in fear. Nico summoned more skeletons and dashed to Hazel. That was when Demeter arrived in a flash of gold, picked Hazel up and disappeared with her. Nico shouted at her, hoarse. The undead bones didn't understand that Nico was their master, and they swiped at him with their sharp fingers. Nico, very weak from the strong magic he used, fell over. The skeletons started dragging him towards the crack in the earth. Nico struggled away and started running far, tears and blood dripping down his face. The attacked guard raised a bloody hand and summoned more troops; they arrived immediately. Some chased after Nico, while the others battled the skeletons and treated the dying guard._

The pictures on Hazel's head stopped. She was standing, shocked, hand raised to her head. Stitched lined a small cut on her top skull.

"I thought those were headaches from being unconscious." She finally managed.

No reply.

Hazel coughed. "Thanks, Demeter."

When that didn't get an answer either, she went back to sit ups.

At some point, later that day, Hazel's bandage fell apart.

And she found the tracking device she'd known was somewhere.

Hazel crushed it underfoot and quickly started to follow her plan. It would only be a few minutes until Demeter's servants would discover a problem; she'd have to make those minutes count.

Hazel grabbed the wall. It was rough and full of grooves, perfect for climbing. The weeks of exercise did Hazel good; she easily managed to claw up the wall to the small window near the ceiling.

The one she'd pretended to forget about.

Hazel summoned a diamond. It had been a long time since she'd tried to use her powers; even this tiny gemstone made her stomach lurch.

Fighting back the nausea, Hazel used her magic to fashion a blade from the diamond. Then she began sawing away at the bars crossing the window.

It was tedious work, but Hazel was determined to manage it before Demeter or her servants returned. Too much time had passed.

The door made a clicking noise, and Hazel knew someone was about to burst in. She hacked with renewed enthusiasm.

" _HAZEL!"_

Hazel slammed down the knife and ripped away the bars, her fingers sore and bleeding. She frantically scanned the street for somebody to notice her.

Hand grabbed her ankles. She let out a squeak of surprise.

A burly, Asian teenager looked up from the pavement, towards her.

 _There._ She locked gazes with him, pleading for help.

The boy's eyes widened- Hazel's last hope -and then she was dragged away from the window. Held by her feet, Hazel's chin slapped the floor, and she blacked out.


	8. AN! The Author is annoying! AN Time!

**OMG guys!**

 **Thank you SOOOO much for all the follows! I loved writing this story, and I love you all for the reviews and support. You all get magical baby unicorns! YAY!**

 **Aaaaanywho, I wanted to make a clarifictaion. The newest chapter, HAZEL, mentions time passing by. Each character's storyline occurs at the same time; meaning, Hazel was captured a few weeks before the other chapters. Basically, When Hazel sees the Asian boy in the street, it's around the same time as Annabeth goes to school, Percy gets sold, Jason gets Piper, Piper gets taken and Leo goes to Zeus's court. Nico meets Will when Hazel is taken (meaning, SPOILER, I'm putting him in a coma for a few weeks). There! Understood?**

 **Thanks again, and any questions can be sent via PM or comments.**


	9. Chapter 8: Frank

FRANK was in big trouble.

Clarisse La Rue, head of Ares Block #3, was aggressively motioning for him to come over. She stood in the middle of the wide passage, the one that seemed fare too large to be called a hall, and glared at him with hate.

Clarisse glared at everything with hate, but she seemed to dislike Frank more than others. It made sense, in a way; Frank was, according to her, the wimpiest and weakest member of the Block Battalion. As a son of Mars, AKA Ares, he was expected to fight with a sword and enjoy the thrill of the battle. Instead, he preferred to use a bow and arrows and despised war.

Frank was refilling necessity pack at the other side of the passage. Each Block of soldiers held exactly forty of his half-siblings, meaning he had to have forty pack ready for combat.

Each pack held a roll of bandages, nectar, ambrosia, regular water, and a dagger for self-defense. If Frank were in charge he'd remove the godly food- some of the warriors were but descendants of Ares and couldn't eat any without combustion –and replace it with proper nourishment and better health supplies.

But Frank wasn't in charge, and he never would be. As the "Omega" of his group, the butt of the jokes and the loser of the Block, he'd be lucky to even become an official soldier. That was why he got the worst jobs, like refilling the stinky packs. But he had to drop them all now and heed Clarisse's order to come to her.

Frank put down the pack he held and clambered off the boards he was sitting on, careful not to disrupt anything. He brushed his uniform from dust, then set across the passage to Clarisse.

The passage, flowing with people, was a high-arched tunnel lit by many electric lights. As the main connection between the Blocks, it was always full of crowds. Frank once got the job of scrubbing its walls of filth; at two in the morning there were still large groups of pedestrians.

It could take Frank less than twenty seconds to jog across the width of the passage, but the people blocked the way like dirt in a bathtub drain.

Frank squeezed between many, making his way to Clarisse as fast as he could. The crowds' heat was immense, and when combined with Frank's physical work it was almost unbearable. By the time he reached Clarisse, Frank was dripping with light sweat.

She eyed him with disgust. "Wimp."

Frank had no choice but to accept that insult. It didn't bother him that much; after being called worse things a couple of times, "wimp" didn't seem that bad.

"Sorry, Clarisse." He said. "Midday crowds, you know?"

Clarisse raised a patronizing eyebrow.

"You need to command RESPECT, Zhang!" she bellowed at Frank, purposely causing eyes to swivel in his direction. "You need to show the crowd you are a SOLDIER!"

"Not yet, really…" Frank commented.

Clarisse smirked. "That's right, actually. You won't be a real soldier anytime soon. I might as well give you this task, seeing as you won't be busy."

Frank sighed. To be honest, he knew this was coming from the moment Clarisse had called him over. All she did was give him work to do.

"I'll gladly do it, but I need to refill the packs." Frank told Clarisse.

She waved her hand in dismissal. "They can wait. Do them tonight during your free time."

This was actually very unfair, but Frank didn't really have anything better to do in his free time. So he just nodded.

"Good! Okay, so you take this-"

Clarisse rummaged in her army backpack and pulled out a lumpy package, dropping it in Frank's arms.

"-And run it along to the Army Base HQ over in City Center. Understood, Zhang?"

Frank nodded again, looking like a bobble-head. City Center was easily half-an-hour's walk, both there and back; at least he'd miss Training Program. He HATED Training Program.

"Sure thing, Clarisse." Frank shifted the heavy package in his arms.

Clarisse smirked. "Great."

And with that, she stalked off into the crowd.

It was a hot, sweet-smelling day outside. Frank was thankful for the chance to walk along out of the Blocks; he'd spent the past three weeks cooped up inside. Cobblestone streets had never seemed so beautiful.

The ten Ares Soldier Blocks were located in the Warrior District, a small clump of underground training areas lit by florescent lights that smelled of metal. It was widely known that the Warrior District was perhaps the smallest and least needed of all Zeuopolis districts, considering its tiny size and the fact that it could easily fit beneath any other area. Frank was that it wasn't located beneath any other district, however, because that would lengthen his path to City Center by a good forty minutes.

He now strode through the narrow streets, trying to act casual despite the awkward bundle in his arms. Frank was strong, so the weight didn't bother him; rather, the burning curiosity was the burden. He'd peeked into the canvas folds before leaving, unable to resist the temptation, but all he saw was an oddly-shaped and bulky gun-like object with a large canister meant for bullets (or something like that). Frank was not an expert on Weaponry, but Ares Block #3 taught him enough for him to recognize that this was no ordinary gun. Which made the whole thing of carrying it down the street nonchalantly quite… odd.

Despite the scary weapon and long walk, Frank enjoyed his mission to Army Base HQ. It felt wonderful to stretch his legs instead of Training along with the other Ares brutes.

Frank's path led him straight across the north of Lower Zeuopolis, through the Market. If he's followed the market a little ways on he'd find himself in the Machinery District; further on he'd reach the polluted Slave Hut Riverbank; if he passed the market and gone deeper into Lower Zeuopolis, he'd reach the narrow streets where traders and storekeepers lived. Frank was not permitted to travel anywhere near these places; they were forbidden to all Soldiers except in case of war. He even kept his head down in the beautiful Demeter Courtyard, an open-air area with trees and towers and stalls of fresh food. The aroma of bread and honeysuckle overwhelmed Frank's senses, causing him to hurry away before he'd decide to look around.

The Army Base HQ was located in the fringes of City Center, a huge and bustling square where the most important of things took place. The middle of the Center was currently occupied by a large crowd of people in dignified clothes, carrying neat cases or boxes of all sorts of interesting objects. They seemed to be milling around something; Frank couldn't make out what it was.

"Hi!"

Frank jumped, spinning around in automatic reflex. The boy beside him cracked up.

"Holy Hera, your face!" he laughed.

Frank scowled. The kid was perhaps sixteen, around Frank's own age; still, he was scrawny and short and very obviously with Mexican heritage. His hair was curly and wild, popping about his face in the hot sun, and his skin was stained with grease and machine oil. Frank could see no connection between the dressed-up people in the crowd and the overall-wearing, grimy and grinning boy standing there.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that." Frank said.

The boy shrugged. "Sorry, man. It WAS funny. The name's Leo."

Frank glanced around him. "Wait, are you here for this carnival thing?"

Leo nodded. "It's Gods' Court, man. The big deal. Could be my big break. And my siblings', of course."

"You have siblings?"

"Yeah. Nyssa and Harley. Awesome guys. I really want the best for them, so-" Leo fingered a package in his pocket, "-I'm hoping this baby'll hit some jackpot with the judges."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "I'm guessing you're a child of Hephaestus."

"Guilty as charged." Leo spread his arms out. "You must be some kinda soldier dude. I think your HQ place is over there."

He pointed in a general direction.

"Oh. Thanks." Frank replied politely, deciding not to mention that he already knew where the Base was. "Good luck with your thing."

"Thanks!"

Frank walked away.

Army Base HQ accepted Frank's delivery with a grim nod and an order to cut his hair (Frank got that a lot). By the time he left the building, Leo had already gone. Fran hoped the guy earned some money. From the look of him, he deserved it.

It was still high afternoon as he walked back through the city; Frank was in a good mood. He kept his head up as he walked through Demeter's Courtyard, breathing in the fresh air.

Suddenly, a noise. Frank looked up, startled; there was a face in one of the tower windows. A girl. Afro-American. Scared. She locked gazes with Frank, her eyes pleading for help. Mouthed something, then slipped out of sight.

Frank leapt up and dashed for the tower doors.


	10. Chapter 9: Will

WILL was a doctor. That meant he could perform surgery while tied to a chair, diagnose a person's injures from a distance of fifty feet, keep a comatose patient alive and steady for weeks, and save the life of a soldier stabbed seven times with a sharp dagger. What he could not do was change a lightbulb.

"I don't know! Gods, Justin, please just get a guy from Hephaestus or something."

Justin Harstrong, Will's half-brother, glared at him. Will was perched on the top of a ladder that leaned on the wall, supposedly changing the lightbulb. Except the problem was he didn't know how to.

"We are NOT getting a Hephaestus kid to change our lightbulb. It's way easier and cheaper to just DO IT." Justin grumbled.

"I don't know how to, though! Why can't we just-"

"-Because Hephaestus kids are grubby and charge a ton of money for everything."

"To be fair, they're usually starving."

Justin shrugged. "Not my problem. Besides, they touch all the medical equipment and get it all grimy and unsanitary."

Will scrunched up his face and waggled his hand in the air, making fun of Justin. "Yeah, well, why don't you come up here and do it, then?"

Justin raised an eyebrow and waved his hand, reminding Will about the IV drip attached to his arm.

"Right," Will muttered. "I forgot you got dehydrated because you're so amateur you couldn't drink while being a doctor."

Justin gave him a dirty look and didn't say a word. Will knew what he'd just said was unfair; Justin had spent sixteen hours straight on his feet, bustling around the Clinic's patients while Will was out Helping. It wasn't Justin's fault that he was fatigued and weak. Will just needed to say something.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I-"

A loud beeping issued from the nearby room, Emergency Care. For the past few weeks the room was being occupied by a very important and injured patient. A patient that was now-

"Awake." Will said in awe. "Oh my gods, he's awake."

"Who? The comatose guy?" Justin asked.

Will ignored the question, sliding down the ladder in a highly dangerous manner and dashing into the room.

It had been a few weeks back. Will had gone out on his regular Helping Missions, finding sick or wounded or underfed people in the streets and bringing them back to the Clinic for treatment.

The Clinic was a one-storey, beige-stone and square building, inwardly painted white and equipped with fully functioning medical supplies. A few of these clinics were scattered all over Common District, so business for Justin and Will was meager and they mainly lived off the free coupons each citizen received once a month. Free coupons, in Will's opinion, were a great idea. He was glad all of Zeuopolis had them.

Anyway. That fateful day, Will had been on his return from his Helping Mission. Apart from one Hephaestus teen with a sprained ankle (which Will had treated on the spot), there had been no people in need he'd met.

Will was just turning the corner when a scrawny and terrified kid barreled down the cobblestone street, stumbling in Will's direction. The kid seemed woozy and weak as he ran. Will automatically stepped against a nearby wall to let him pass.

The kid didn't make it that far, though. Three guards dashed into Will's line of vision, guns bared, heading for the kid. Will winced as their hands whacked his back and knocked him head-over-heels onto the ground. One guard raised a bat, ready to attack,

Will couldn't stand by any longer. He slid across the street and threw himself over the unconscious kid's body, his blonde curls bouncing in the poor soul's pale face.

"STOP!" Will yelped, holding his hands out.

The guard froze, glaring at him furiously.

Will straightened, standing protectively over the knocked-out kid. He pulled a doctor's card out of his pocket and waved it in the guards' faces, as if showing them a prize.

"I'm a doctor." He said, in a voice that commanded respect. "As a medical man, I can't stand by and let you harm a half-dead person. Against every law of moral medicine."

The guards scowled.

"Well, you're relieved of your doctor duties." One of them sneered. "Now GET, before I have to use this against you."

He tapped his bat threateningly.

Will raised a patronizing eyebrow. "You will? Really? You'd harm a person whose family is in charge of your health and wellbeing? I'd like to see you try."

"Was that a threat?"

"Possibly."

The guard aimed his gun at Will's chest.

"That's it." He said. "You're officially under arrest. What's your name?"

"Louis." Will lied smoothly. He and Justin had prepared for this already, and each had false names. Justin's was Tim.

The guard gestured towards the unconscious kid with a flourish of his arm, without moving the gun from its aim at Will.

"He's dying anyway." One of his cronies said. "Won't be any use. Just smash 'im."

The last guard raised his own bat, ready to bring it down on the kid's crumpled and fragile body.

Will acted immediately. He punched a guard in the face and then ducked, a bullet meant for him blasting down the street. The threat of the bat was lifted from the injured kid; Will kicked the gun out of its owner's hand and reached into his own satchel, bringing out a glistening syringe.

"I hate to waste this on you," he told the stunned and bruised guards, "But this is an emergency."

One man lunged for him with a shout. Will spun and stabbed the syringe into the guard's shoulder, pressing firmly. The anesthesia kicked in almost instantly and the guard slid to the ground, limp as a rag doll.

Will waved the syringe threateningly at the other two guards, who'd both backed away and ran. He then grabbed the unconscious boy by the armpits and drag-carried him all the way to the clinic.

Emergency Care was a relatively small room and at least half of it was already taken up with necessary medical equipment that, if disconnected, would cause the comatose boy's instant death. That meant Will had to hopscotch his way through pipes and machinery so he wouldn't accidentally kill his patient.

The boy was twitching in his hospital bed, eyelids fluttering. Will reached his bedside just as his eyes opened slowly, for the first time in weeks.

"Hi." Will said, reaching over to take the boy's pulse. "You just woke up from a weeks-long coma. I'm your doctor. What's your name?"

The boy groaned in pain, gazing around groggily.

"Nico." He moaned.

Will nodded and turned to a few medical machines, adjusting their settings to fit a conscious person.

"Well, Nico, it seems you were in pretty bad shape when I found you. Care to tell me what happened?"

Nico blinked heavily. "Who are you? The boy who found me was blonde."

Will reached up and touched his own soft curls- he'd forgotten Justin had dyed them chestnut to avoid guards searching for blonde Apollo medics.

"Hair dye." Will explained. "I went through quite a bit of trouble to get you to safety, you know."

"S-so?"

"So I'm not exactly on the Zeuopolis Police's Good List."

Nico rubbed his head with trembling hands. "Why would you go into all that danger just to rescue me? It's not like you know me or anything."

"Hippocratic Oath. I can cause no harm to my patients."

"I wasn't technically your patient yet."

"What can I say?" Will shrugged playfully. "I guess I'm just undeniably goodhearted."

Nico snorted weakly. Will finished adjusting the last machine.

"There. If you have any problems, just press that button and it'll alert me. Now, go back to sleep." He told Nico.

Nico nodded ever-so-slightly, then blinked. "You didn't tell me your name yet."

"I'm Will."

"Will." Nico murmured, as he squirmed back into his blankets and closed his eyes.

Will gave the boy one last glance, then shut off the lights and left the room.


	11. Chapter 10: Annabeth

ANNABETH was hungry.

Very hungry, in fact. She'd spent her Lunch Break melting her brain while trying to understand Malcom's complicated Archimedes Calculation. It was so branched out and detailed that she'd managed to find three errors already and the equation's meaning didn't waver. That in both ways impressed and irritated Annabeth. Malcom's discovery was borderline genius and might yet win him the Scholarship Prize for Further Education in Zeuopolis Palace itself. Annabeth had been dreaming of winning that prize for her entire life. A scholarship for Further Education at the Palace was the perfect way for her to see something other than the Athena District. That prize was Annabeth's only chance to actually find her place outside of the life planned for her, and Malcom was going to get it instead of her with no idea how much he was gaining.

After that exhausting and foodless Lunch Break, Annabeth had had to suffer through a three-hour class on the uprising of modern Zeuopolis. She may have been interested had it been the first time she'd heard the subject; however, they'd been lectured on it so many times Annabeth could probably recite all the facts by heart. She tried spending the time by working on Malcom's calculation and eating quick snippets of food when the teacher's back was turned, but the boredom was still crippling.

School finally ended at five o'clock; Annabeth burst out of the building while the bell was still ringing and hastened home.

The walk back to her house was boring, as usual, but Annabeth's mind was zooming around. She'd just remembered the gift Athena had supposedly left her in her bedroom. Now, that held some promise. Perhaps it was another scholarship for the Palace, perhaps some ancient scrolls on Greek architecture, perhaps an advanced telescope. Whatever the present, Annabeth knew she could put at least a little bit of hope on it. Her lucky break may be today.

The house looked the same from the outside as Annabeth halted outside the fancy door and pulled her keys out of the loose paving tile. She unlocked it slowly and stepped inside- nobody was home quite yet.

Annabeth dropped her bag by the door, ignoring the fact that she'd been asked not to do so multiple times, and quietly made her way to the stairs over the thick, expensive carpet. Silently, step by step, she crept upstairs to her room. She wanted to be surprised.

With a skip of her heart, Annabeth opened the door to her room and-

-Embarrassingly, screamed.

There was a _boy_ in her bedroom.

He was filthy and obviously abused, his black hair scraggly and dirty. His clothes were very torn and old and hung from him like old pieces of sailcloth. He seemed about Annabeth's age, and worst of all: he had a pair of handcuffs binding him to Annabeth's bed.

 _Handcuffs._

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" Annabeth yelled, hands clapped over her mouth.

The boy jumped violently, spinning around and then wincing as his wrist twisted. He didn't give a reply, just looked up at Annabeth with mildly furious sea-green eyes.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" She kept raising her voice, still shocked by his existence in her room.

The boy coughed. "Oh. Um. I'm P. That's… what you're supposed to call me."

"Why the HADES are you in my house? Who let you in here?!"

"Some guy dropped me off." P explained. "Took me out of the Hut and drugged me up and brought me to this place. Trust me, ma'am, this was NOT my idea."

He said the word "ma'am" in a tone filled with scorn. Annabeth scowled.

"In case you were wondering, I'm a gift." He added as if in an afterthought. "A present from your mom. 'Cause there's nothing like perpetual slavery to make your birthday perfect."

"Slavery?" Annabeth questioned, arms crossed, still breathing irregularly.

"Oh, yeah. I'm a son of Poseidon. Guess it was meant to be, huh? Slave life? Yippee, how great for me."

Annabeth suddenly lurched forwards angrily, shaking a finger furiously in P's face.

"Listen here, _Seaweed Brain_." She hissed. "I want you here about as much as you want to be here. The last thing I need right now is an obnoxiously sarcastic 'slave' as a damned present from my mom. This is NOT what I was expecting when she said a gift! Now I'm stuck with you so you better suck it up and be a bit more respectful!"

P backed away, his dirty back colliding with Annabeth's clean bed. She didn't care, fists clenched, still mad.

"Woah there." He exclaimed, looking a bit scared. "Don't go all crazy on me. I just-"

Annabeth groaned loudly, turning away and planting her head in her hands. She honestly could not believe how this day was turning out. Her head was starting to hurt, a pulsing headache building up in her forehead.

"Okay." She breathed out slowly. "Listen. I am actually exhausted right now and I really need to work on something. So you're gonna go clean yourself up a bit because you are literally dirtier than most gardens in this area, then we'll find you a place to stay."

Before P could answer, she leaned towards him in order to get a closer look at the handcuffs. P lurched backwards, scrambling away from her. She stared at him, eyebrows knitted together.

"What?" she asked.

"I-I. Thought you were-" P mumbled, relaxing his tense muscles. "What were you trying to do?"

"Get you out of those cuffs, Seaweed Brain. What the Hades did you _think_ I was doing?" Annabeth frowned.

"I don't know. Never mind." He said.

Then, suddenly, he blinked. "Wait, what did you just say?"

"That I'm getting you out of those cuffs."

P tugged at the manacles around his hands, showing her the sturdiness of their metal bands.

"Why?" he questioned, confused.

"Because if I don't I'll be stuck with you in my bedroom, creeper. Besides, Seaweed Brain, I don't really appreciate shackling people up."

With that, she pulled a bobby pin out of her jeans pocket and inserted it into the restraints' lock. A few fancy hand movements, a click, and the shackles slid open.

P slowly raised his hands, gazing at them in surprise. Annabeth watched him, intrigued, as he rubbed his wrists.

"Finally." He murmured. Then, "You told me to wash up?"

"My bathroom's over there." Annabeth shook herself out of her stupor and pointed towards the hallway.

P raised an eyebrow when she said " _my_ bathroom", but shakily got up and headed out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Annabeth could hear water running but P still hadn't returned. She suspected he may have left the shower on and escaped; though, to tell the truth, the boy seemed as though he was too weak to manage even the slightest sprint. If he was expected to assist her with manual labor, she'd have to make sure he was actually in proper health to do so.

Twenty minutes. Annabeth heaved herself up off of her bed and crept out to the hallway, listening at the bathroom door to hear if P was there. There were slight movement sounds; he was probably still inside. She could now hear obviously from the sink faucet- a strange choice, considering P had the shower to his use.

All of a sudden, quiet wincing. Annabeth stiffened. As soon as a faint groan of pain sounded from behind the door, she pressed on the handle and opened it.

"What are you _doing_ in here?" Annabeth snapped, then froze. P was kneeling with his back to her, and he wasn't wearing a shirt.

He turned towards her, then jumped and threw his tattered tee over his bare torso. But it was only after Annabeth had seen his scars.

So many of them; perhaps thirty or more, drawing across his back like pencil marks. Some diagonal, some straight, some shorter, some deeper. All white lines against his damp, slightly bruised pale skin.

Annabeth was at loss for words. She gaped at P, shocked. He didn't return the gaze.

"What-?" Annabeth managed, after a long moment of horrified silence.

"I told you, I'm a slave." P answered bitterly. "Slaves aren't _people_. So we don't get punished like people, either."

"But what-?"

"Whips, Wise Girl." He spoke with a new name, a name that sounded disdainful and even patronizing, but Annabeth didn't notice. She clutched her stomach, feeling sick.

"That's twisted."

"It's reality."

Annabeth stared him right in the eye, grey meeting green.

"Not here." She said. "Not today. Never."

P looked back at her, as if warily judging her next move. Annabeth noticed, for the first time, how tired he seemed. How dark the bags beneath his eyes were. How his bones protruded from his limbs. How he was so skinny and probably malnourished, she was probably stronger than him.

"Never." Annabeth repeated. "You're not my slave."

He remained still as a statue, obviously taken aback by her sudden decision.

She coughed. "If you could… just tell me your real name? I'm Annabeth."

P blinked, then smiled faintly.

"My name." he said softly. "Is Percy Jackson."


	12. Chapter 11: Percy

PERCY was confused.

The girl- Annabeth –wasn't supposed to be nice. Wasn't supposed to be kind or caring or even mildly compassionate towards him. And yet here she was, refusing to let him remain enslaved. Refusing to play according to Zeuopolis's rules.

Maybe it was the scars? Percy wouldn't know; he'd never yet met a single person who gave a damn about his scars. The again, he'd only ever known other scarred people. Other tortured souls.

Annabeth had nothing for Percy to change into after he showered for the first time in weeks, so he just pulled on his ratty clothes again. They seemed dirtier and nastier than ever, but there was nothing to be done about that. It wouldn't do Percy any good to become snobbish now. He had to stay just as humble as he'd be in the Slave Shack. Which would probably be quite hard considering this house was literally a mini mansion.

Drying his feet on his damp used towel, Percy poked his head out of the doorway and checked if Annabeth was still there. She wasn't; the hallway was spookily empty.

"Hey… Wise Girl?" Percy called, the new nickname still strange on his tongue.

There was no reply. She must be too far into the villa to hear him. Percy took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor, glancing around him to observe the neatly papered walls. The wallpaper itself was grey, imprinted with recurring birds that Percy had only heard about when he was younger.

A loud thumping noise came from downstairs. Percy started, then mustered up his courage and made his way down the carpeted staircase and into a huge sitting room. The floor was shiny white tile, the walls hanging with expensive-looking paintings and a large window with view to a yard opposite the staircase. Percy was tempted to go outside and look around, but the thumping noise came from one floor lower down. He descended another floor and ended up in a basement of some sorts that seemed at least the size of some apartments (or so he thought. He'd never been to a proper apartment).

Down a darkened hallway the sound started up again. Percy crept along a few closed doors until he reached the end of the hallway, where the last door was cracked slightly ajar and let out light from within. Sucking in air, Percy gave the door a shove and leaned inside.

Annabeth sat behind a desk, scribbling furiously on a pile of lined sheet paper. She kicked her legs against her chair like a frustrated little kid and threw a nearby paperweight against a corkboard that was propped in the corner. Percy realized that the paperweight hitting the board was the source of the loud thumping noise he'd heard.

"Owls." He said, entering the room.

Annabeth jumped and spun around, a letter opener gripped threateningly in her hand. Percy took a step back as she sighed at him and threw the knife onto the table again, rubbing her forehead.

"Gods, Seaweed Brain." Annabeth groaned. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. And what about owls?"

"On your walls. Those are owls."

"Yeah, genius."

Percy shrugged. "I wasn't sure. Never seen one."

"Oh. Well. I saw a few for the first time when I was in Year Three. They took us to the Owl Sanctuary, about ten miles away. I've gone back there dozens of times since." Annabeth replied matter-of-factly.

Percy nodded, then took a few steps forwards towards her and stopped. Every move he made was calculated, an instinct developed during years of having to stay on his masters' good side. Annabeth raised an eyebrow and moved aside to let him see what she was doing. He peered over at the papers; every line was crammed with mathematical equations and sketches of pillars and supporting arches and whatnot that Percy assumed were common in this area.

"You wrote all this?" he asked her, eyes wide with shock.

"Yeah. Trying to figure something out, but my brain is mush. Most of this doesn't even make any sense."

Percy blinked and then snorted, running a finger over the page. "Damn, you really are a Wise Girl."

Annabeth whapped him playfully with her pencil, but Percy jolted back as though he'd been electrocuted. Frowning, Annabeth almost asked what was wrong; then she remembered the scars on Percy's back and realized he might not appreciate her hitting him any time soon.

"I'm sor-"

Percy shook his head, cutting her off, and smirked. "Instead of apologizing, you can do something for me."

"What, exactly?" Annabeth asked, crossing her arms.

"Take me outside."

Annabeth's yard was an enormous stretch of lawn with trees lining the sides and a vegetable garden on either end. Once you emerged from the house, a neat picket fence would pop into view about a hundred meters immediately to your right, behind a patch of lettuce and carrots; to your left, about sixty meters away, a small storage shed would be revealed (hidden behind a tree and a flowerbed with radishes and tulips). Percy gazed around him in wonder, soaking the sight in. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd seen in his life.

Annabeth scratched her head. "Well. To be honest, I was going to set you up a room down in the third floor, but seeing as you seem to like it here so much-"

She strode over the grass and around the tulip-and-radish-bed, fishing a brass key out of her jeans pocket and unlocking the shed door. It swung open with a loud creak and Annabeth beckoned Percy over, ducking inside.

The shed was musty and dark and smelled like a freshly-mown lawn. It wasn't a smell that Percy liked very much, but he instantly felt an urge to remain in the little cobwebbed place.

"I'll stay here?" he questioned, looking around at the dusty shelved piled with gardening equipment and the window thick with grime.

"If you want to."

Slowly, Percy turned back to Annabeth. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do."

They hung around in the shed together until evening, cleaning the shelves and making the place more livable. Annabeth dragged a mattress out of the house and set it by the wall, completing the bed affect with a spare pillow and one of her old quilts. Percy brushed a whole load of spiderwebs and filth from the corners of the shack, sweeping it all into a heap beside one of the trees outside. By five o'clock the shed was neater and cleaner than before, though the windows were left dirty (to conceal Percy from any people wandering the garden). After the scrubbing they gave the indoor walls, Percy and Annabeth sat down beside eachother on the lawn and ate dinner. It was just leftovers from Annabeth's previous day's meal, but both agreed that the food was unexplainably delicious. The sun began to go down; Annabeth gathered the plates and whispered a few short words to Percy: he mustn't go out between sunset and midnight or sunrise and noon; he mustn't make any obvious changes to the garden; he mustn't go up into Annabeth's room or toilet before four PM on Tuesdays. Then she waved a quick goodbye and hurried back into the house.

Percy headed for the shed. Despite the fact that he was going into hiding again, he shut the wodden door with a smile on his face.


	13. AN

Hey guys!

I'm so sorry about my inactivity recently. I've been struggling with MOUNTAINS of Writer's Block and a lot of insecurity about my writing, and I seriously considered giving up fanfiction because I feel what I write is very poor quality. But I'm gonna keep dragging on! So this fanfic is going to be in a little hiatus, so give myself some time to try new ideas and work on new chapters. I've been reading some of my old writing here and I really have improved (and by improved I mean that once I was utterly horrible at fanfiction), so I hope that I still get better as I go along.

Thank you so much for your support, and hopefully I'll be updating very soon!


	14. Goodbye

Hey, guys.

I'm writing this to let you know I will not be updating or adding to this story again. Not now, not ever.

Writing and publishing my fanfiction on this site was a meaningful part of my life, but it provided a lot of stress and I have decided to stop doing so. I probably will not be writing any fanfic at all any more, apart from specific fandoms and ideas that don't make me uncomfortable.

A lot of my fanfics are very hard for me to reread, but I will leave them up in case anybody might ever still want to read them.

Thank you all so much for being part of my growing experience as a writer. If you would be interested in my original, non-fanfiction writing, my Wattpad is teacalligraphy- you may recognize some fanfics I posted there a while back and left up for the same reason as I left them up here.

Yours Truly,

Kiwi (Anna)


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